


The Best Medicine

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: A case of the flu has struck the bunker





	The Best Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr

“This is the end- when I die, give me a hunter’s funeral.”

Rolling your eyes at Dean’s theatrics, you threw a dirty tissue at him, laughing at his offended expression. Your laughter soon turned to hacking coughs and you had to struggle a minute to catch your breath. Sipping your water, you said, “This is why Sam ditched us. Stop being such a baby, it’s just the flu.”

Your voice came out funny due to the congestion and you had to resist the urge to lob the whole box of kleenex at him when he mocked you. It had been four days of this, and if you had to listen to Dean whine and moan about germs one more time, you’d kill him. He turned into the biggest infant when sick and now you knew why Sam had bailed after day two, claiming a hunt had popped up far, far away from the bunker. You’d begged him to take you with him, and coughed all over his duffel when he refused. And so you were left alone with Dean, an overgrown manchild who acted like a head cold was the black plague.

“Can’t you just get your boyfriend to use his angel mojo on us and whammy this thing away?” Dean complained petulantly.

“I already told you Dean, I’m not calling Gadreel away from Heaven just because you can’t take a case of the sniffles,” you growled out. “Suck it up and deal.”

The truth was, you wanted nothing more than for Gadreel to come home, to be curled up in his arms as he regaled you with tales of his doings in Heaven. He’d been away more often than not lately, ever since he and Cas had imprisoned Metatron and begun work to restore Heaven to its former glory. As proud as you were of him and as much as you enjoyed listening to his stories, you missed having him with you. Now more than ever, you wanted your angel.

Dean continued to grumble, whining about how it was too cold in the bunker, but if he put on a blanket it was stifling, and his head hurt, and his throat was sore, and his joints ached, and his nose wouldn’t stop running. At that, you did chuck the tissue box at him, catching him square in the chest. Bundling yourself up, you left him on his own, shuffling to your bedroom with as much dignity as you could muster and flopping down on the blankets with a groan. The silence was beautiful, but without Dean’s constant complaints, you had nothing to distract you from how miserable you felt.

Deciding that a nap was in order, you burrowed under your sheets, turning yourself into a blanket burrito in an effort to get comfortable. Sleep was slow to come as you tossed and turned restlessly. It felt like every time you started drifting off, a sneeze would erupt forth or your lungs tried to project themselves from your body. Shifting position yet again, you cursed the wendigo responsible for your illness. It just  _had_  to pick the rainiest day of the year to lead you on a chase through the woods. It just  _had_  to choose the dampest, dankest cave to hide in. Sure, you and Dean had lit the bastard up like the Fourth of July, but now you were paying for your little traipse through the forest.

Muttering to yourself, you eventually managed to drift off, the flu medicine you’d taken earlier finally kicking in. Your dreams were surprisingly free of nightmares, a sense of safety and security enfolding you. It was divine, and you cuddled up unknowingly into the form now resting beside you. A gentle hand pushed back damp strands of hair from your sweaty forehead, a soft pair of lips pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

You slept, unaware of the angel guarding your rest, dreaming of him even as he watched over you. Sighing in your sleep, you nuzzled in closer to his warmth. The corners of your mouth twitched up in a smile when he drew you tighter against his body, leaving no part of you untouched. The bulk of the blankets did nothing to deter him, though he did loosen them a bit to keep you from overheating.

Several hours later, you stirred, yours eyes blinking blearily as you tried to focus. Your dull senses didn’t register the fact that you weren’t alone in bed until a face swam into view. Gadreel’s gorgeous eyes stared back at you, so full of love it made you heart soar. “Hey angel, when’d you get back?” you rasped, sleep and sickness leaving your voice scratchy.

“Mere hours ago, my love. I returned to find you unwell and did not wish to disturb your rest. What happened, dearest? How did you fall ill?”

“Wendigo,” you grumbled, shedding blankets as you stretched your limbs. You felt so much better now that Gadreel was back. Sure, you were still feverish and congested as hell, but having your angel next to you was the best medicine you could ask for. “It was raining pretty hard when me and Dean tracked it down to its lair; he’s sick too. Sam managed to avoid catching the flu, lucky bastard.”

“Love, you should have prayed to me when you first fell ill, I could have healed you in an instant,” he chided you softly, tucking your head underneath his chin.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you protested, “I know how busy you are with Cas these days.”

“You are never a bother, dear one,” he insisted gently, his hand rubbing soothing circles along your back. “Nothing is of greater  importance to me than you.”

“You always say the sweetest things,” you sighed.

“It is nothing more than the truth. Would you allow me to heal you now?” he asked, bringing his fingers up to your forehead questioningly.

“Please. I’m sick of being sick.”

He smiled, pressing the tips of fingers to you. The difference was instantaneous; one second you felt awful, the next you were better than ever. No more fever and congestion, the ache that had settled into your bones vanishing with his touch. Even the bruising you’d sustained from the hunt was gone, erased with Gadreel’s grace. You tossed the blankets off entirely, now much too hot to keep them on.

Meeting his pleased gaze, you grinned, cupping the side of his face with both hands and bringing him in for a kiss. He went willingly, a hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. The kiss was light, a delicate press of your lips against his. He allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, never once breaking away from you. You smiled against his mouth, finally pulling back to rest your forehead against his. “I love you so much.”

“As I love you. I do not enjoy seeing you suffer, my light.”

“I’ll call you sooner next time,” you promised, shuffling down his body to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, happily breathing in his scent. Laying next to your angel, arms wrapped around him to hold him close and feeling better than you had in days, you decided life didn’t get much better.

That is, until you heard Dean bellowing from the other room, “We’re out of kleenex!”

Groaning, you lifted your head to ask Gadreel, “Do you mind healing Dean too? If I have to listen to him keep whining…”

Gadreel chuckled, the sound of it reverberating through your chest. “As you wish, love. I shall return in a moment.”

He fluttered away, back almost before you could blink. “All is well. I believe he is off to celebrate his returned health.”

“So, what you’re saying is, we have the place to ourselves?” you asked innocently. Grinning mischievously when he nodded, you tackled him to the bed. “Well then, angel, what do you say you help me work up another sweat?”


End file.
